The Reawakened (5 page)

The murmurs increased in volume. Several pairs of eyes shot her skeptical looks.

She pulled out Bolan’s letter. “I have proof.”

“I don’t need proof.” A man with a long gray braid moved in front of her. “I’m Tereus the Swan. Your father is my stepson.” He examined her face and smiled. “It’s been ten years, but I’d know those eyes anywhere, granddaughter.”

She stared at him, her throat tightening. She remembered Tereus from her earliest memories—which, not coincidentally, were also her best memories.

“
I’d
like proof,” said a younger Council member to her left, a lanky man with thinning light brown hair. He snatched the letter from Sura’s hand and tore it open, wrinkling his nose at her. She became more aware than ever of not having bathed in four days.

“What does it say, Adrek?” asked a woman with dark red hair sitting on his other side.

He squinted at the letter for several seconds, then tossed it to the inquiring woman. “Bolan has bad handwriting.”

She rolled her eyes and unfolded the letter. “It says this girl is who she says.” She kept reading, then her jaw dropped. “Your mother’s been captured?”

Another round of gasps, even louder.

“Come.” Elora stepped aside and beckoned Sura to the circle’s center. “Let everyone hear.”

Sura recounted the story of Mali’s arrest. Her voice cracked when she told the part about her mother’s beating, but she just lifted her chin higher and kept her breath steady.

When she had finished, Tereus came to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry for all you’ve suffered. You’re among family now.”

She stared into his deep blue eyes, crinkled with age and long-ago laughter. Her own eyes grew hot and blurry. She pulled away.

“Before I can help her, I need my Bestowing. I need to train to use my Snake powers.”

At the mention of her Spirit, the crowd members exchanged glances and a few cocked eyebrows. She felt like throwing a sack over her body, but she put her hands on her hips and challenged their gazes. “I need to find Dravek.”

The breeze blew her clean, damp curls in front of her face. She rarely wore her hair down, but her scalp was sore after being tormented by a tight braid for four days.

She heard a rustle behind her and jerked her head to look over her shoulder. Nothing but a sparrow rooting among the pinecones for its lunch. Sura let out a deep breath, reminding herself that here, no soldiers monitored her every move.

The fire ring appeared in the distance, past the place where the trees ended. A clatter of boards told her someone was there. She put on her thin leather gloves—to protect from splinters, she told herself, knowing the gesture was actually to hide the sweat covering her palms.

What if Dravek wanted her to prove her powers? She couldn’t create fire and couldn’t control its spread. All she could do was extinguish it. Though she knew that many people never exhibited any magic at all before their Bestowing, her lack of skills made her feel inadequate.

A tall figure dressed in black stepped through the opening in the fire ring. He flung an armful of wood into the stone trench, then turned back through the gap without noticing her. His shoulders hunched and his fists clenched as he stomped out of sight. Her steps slowed for a moment at the sight of his menacing posture, until she reminded herself she’d faced much more dire threats in Asermos than an eighteen-year-old tantrum-tossing Snake.

Sura stood next to the trench, listening to him gather wood on the other side, muttering to himself.

“Either they’re idiots, or they’re trying to make my life miserable. Wouldn’t put it past Daria, but Kara, what’s her issue now? What have I done this time, what did I say, who did I look at for one too many moments and how long am I going to have to hear about—”

He rounded the corner of the gap, arms full of wood, and stopped short when he saw Sura.

She stared at him across the rocky trench. Her toes curled in her boots as if they could clutch the ground that seemed to sway beneath her.

Everything about him was black—his clothes, his gloves, his eyes, his short, spiky hair. Everything but his face, which was rapidly reddening.

“Sorry.” He glanced back at the place he’d just come from, as if a different person had stood there. “Didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

“Hear—” Sura cleared her throat. “Hear what?”

A corner of his mouth twitched, and her heart squirmed in her chest.

“Right.” He winked. “Sura?”

“Yes? I mean, yes. I’m Sura. And you’re Dravek.”

“I am. Dravek.”

They stared at each other for several long moments, and she thought she saw him swallow.

She replanted her feet to maintain her balance. “Would you like some help moving the wood?”

He didn’t speak or move, just stared at her, absorbing her with his dark gaze. She had the sensation of being tasted, sipped like an unfamiliar but enticing drink.

“Are you sure you’re a Snake?” he said finally.

“I’m sure.”

“Etarek said you haven’t been Bestowed.”

“Do you think I’m lying?”

“I can’t tell without touching you.”

She stepped back, her stomach quivering. “What do you mean?”

“When people lie, sometimes their hands get cold, but it’s not foolproof. Sometimes it just means they’re afraid.”

“Afraid of you?”

He opened his mouth a fraction of an inch, and she could see his tongue run over the inside of his bottom teeth. “I’m a Snake, aren’t I?”

She let out a deep breath and smiled.
Someone who knows what it’s like to be me.

He set the wood down on a pile to his right. “There’s a bit more to gather. Come on.” He held out his hand. “Watch your step.”

She lurched forward, as if drawn by an invisible cord, completely failing to heed his advice. The first rock she stepped on turned over. She lost her balance and pitched forward.

With inhuman speed, he reached out and caught her arm before she could fall. A flash of heat danced around the place where they touched, flaring back and forth between them.

She blinked hard, trying to clear her head, as he raised her to her feet. Dravek took her other arm, more gently, and the hot sensation flowed stronger, smoother, like a river unfettered by twisting banks. She stared down at his gloved hands, then looked up at his face.

The forest seemed to darken around her. His black eyes reflected the sunlight, flickering like a torch. She wondered if they lit up like that in the dark.

“Come here.” He drew her up and over the ridge of the trench with him until they passed outside the fire ring onto level ground. Still gripping one of her wrists, he tugged off one of his gloves with his teeth and tossed it away. Then he motioned for her to do the same.

She wanted to put her free hand behind her back, so his flesh couldn’t touch it. But something told her that if she didn’t give it to him, Dravek would seize it, anyway.

Without taking her eyes off his, Sura put the tip of her middle finger in her mouth. The glove tasted of pine pitch and mink oil. She withdrew her hand easily, then without hesitation, took Dravek’s.

The heat spiked, and flames leaped behind her eyes.

She gasped, and the glove fell from her mouth. “What just happened?” She felt his gaze sear hers but feared to turn away, lest it burn another part of her.

“I don’t know.” His voice shook. “Maybe it’s because we’re Snakes.”

“I’ve never met another one since I had my powers.”

“Me, neither.”

Their fingers intertwined, and their palms pressed together. She had to concentrate to keep her breath even and slow.

This was her Spirit-brother. She should feel as much desire for him as she would a member of her own family. But for the first time in months, every inch of her skin felt alive.

A long moment passed, empty of words.

Finally she whispered, “Now what?”

His arm tensed, as if to pull her closer. Then he blinked rapidly and let her go. “Uh.” He brushed his bare hand over his shirt, then put his glove on. “Help me. That is, you can help me put the ring back together.” He unhooked a flask from his belt and held it out. “Water?”

“Thank you,” she said quickly. The container was nearly full, and she took a deep draught, hoping it would cool her skin from the inside out.

She handed the flask back to him, careful not to touch his fingers. He emptied it in two long gulps. They looked at each other again, then simultaneously jerked their gazes to the ring.

Dravek cleared his throat. “First I need to bring all the wood to the interior and sort it. They left it on the wrong side and just threw it all into one pile. That’s what I was griping about when you walked up.” He wiped his mouth, then his forehead, which was beaded with sweat.

“I’m sure they just forgot.”

“No.” He shook the empty flask and frowned. “My sister loves to plague me.”

“I think she loves to plague everyone.”

He grinned at her, giving his face a boyish, less treacherous cast. “You picked up on that, then?”

Feeling her face flush, Sura turned to the pile of boards and put her glove back on. “But Kara seems lovely.” She grasped as many boards as she could carry. “Why would she want to cause you trouble?”

He snorted and reached his long arms around the rest of the wood. “To make me call off the wedding?”

“Oh. Congratulations.” Sura hoped her voice disguised her odd sense of disappointment. She made her way carefully over the rocky trench. “I heard Kalindons didn’t marry anymore, that everyone just, you know—”

“Sleeps with everyone else?”

She dropped the wood on the pile. “Yes.”

“Exaggeration.” He chose a pair of long boards. “Mostly.” He fastened the boards to the sides of the ring, then locked them together with their notches.

Sura put her hands in her pockets, for lack of any task to occupy them, and to hide her nervousness. “When’s the wedding?”

“Next week. You should come. I’ve heard Kalindon feasts are quite an experience for outsiders.” He glanced at her as he picked up another, shorter pair of boards. “Is it true that in Asermos, parties only last one night?”

“There’s not much to celebrate these days.”

“All the more reason to do it.” He stopped and looked at her. “After the Descendants invaded, killed all our elders and stole half the population, including—” His voice tightened, and he took a breath. “Kalindos went back to the old ways. The Spirits protect us as long as we follow Their wishes.”

“Which are?” She’d heard tales of Kalindon excesses.

He swept his arm toward the forest around him. “Living close to the trees. Taking care of each other, whether we share blood or not.” His eyes met hers. “Indulging our appetites.”

She wanted to look away but forced herself to hold his gaze. “What do appetites have to do with honoring the Spirits?”

“We give thanks for our lives by living them, every moment.”

He rested the other end of his board on a rock and spun it on the tip. “We live as if life is more important than survival.”

“Nothing’s more important than survival. You’d know that if you lived in Asermos.”

He snorted. “You have more food, more healers, no wild animals big enough to eat you. Seems to me Asermos is—”

“They’ve outlawed grandparents.”

He stopped spinning the board. “Outlawed?”

“Last year. The Ilions are afraid of our third-phase powers. When they find out someone’s pregnant, they make their parents move to Tiros.” She rubbed her arms. “So women don’t get pregnant anymore, or if they do, they don’t stay that way.”

“I hadn’t heard that.” He turned and shoved the board into its proper place. “I’m sorry. Guess we’re pretty isolated out here. Did you tell the Council about this?”

“I told Elora.”

He stopped suddenly and looked at her. “Is that the real reason they put your mother in prison? You’re pregnant?”

“No,” she hurried to say. “It’s because of the resistance.” She tugged on the tips of her gloved fingers. The topic veered too close to parts of her life she didn’t want to think about, much less discuss with this strange new acquaintance.

Dravek’s voice softened. “Did you leave a mate behind in Asermos?”

“Not really.” She looked at the dark soil at her feet and ran her thumb over the scar beneath her shirt. “He died.”

“I’m sorry.” He took a step closer, so that he was almost within reach. “Descendants?”

“Of course,” she said, as if no one ever died of another cause. But few had, in her memory.

Dravek inhaled as if to say something, but didn’t speak, perhaps waiting for her to explain. But she couldn’t, not until she trusted him with the whole truth. Anyone could be an Ilion spy, even here in Kalindos.

“Can I help you with the wall?” she asked him. “I could hand you the pieces.”

He stepped back and took a breath, as if she’d released him from a spell. “It’ll go faster if I do it alone.” He gestured to the sloppy pile. “Every minute this gap is open, the village is vulnerable.”

“Of course.” She turned away. “I’ll go now.”

“Sura, wait.”

Dravek touched her arm. Another jolt of heat seared her, stronger than before. He hissed and let go.

She stared at him. “Did that hurt?”

“No.” He looked at his hand, then back at her. “You?”

“No.” She examined her skin where he’d touched her. “It wasn’t painful, just…” Her voice trailed off.

“Hot,” he whispered.

Another flush of heat crawled over her scalp, from nape to forehead. “I really should go.”
Far, far away,
she thought.
Now.

“You could help me sort the wood.” He blinked hard, then shook his head. “What am I saying? You’re probably tired from your journey.”

At the moment, with her blood singing and skin tingling, she felt not a shred of exhaustion. “Do you want me to stay?”

He started to shrug, then gave a crooked smile that squeezed her heart. “Yes?”